


write it on my neck why don't you?

by For_Want_of_a_Nail



Category: Winx Club
Genre: Amoral Baltor, Breathplay, Consent Issues, Dream Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Sex Magic, Under-negotiated Kink, Unreliable Narrator, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21979513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/For_Want_of_a_Nail/pseuds/For_Want_of_a_Nail
Summary: Why is he touching her like this? Better yet, why is she letting him touch her?“What…what are you doing to me?” she gasps.Baltor gives an inscrutable smile, his eyes flashing with secret mirth. “I haven’t done anything.”He takes a single step back and Bloom thinks that this is it, she’s either going to throw a fireball in his face or fly out the window and back to Alfea. Until she hears him say in a low voice, “Yet.”
Relationships: Bloom/Valtor | Baltor (Winx Club)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 273





	write it on my neck why don't you?

_She’s on fire, and not in the usual way. As a wielder of the most powerful fire magic in the dimension, Bloom thought she knew every way there was to burn, but this is different—a smoldering ember of need originating from somewhere deep in her core. Her eyelids are heavy, her limbs feel like lead, and she honestly thinks she might perish if she doesn’t find some relief soon._

_“There, there,” croons a low, male voice next to her ear, and oh, that’s another body on top of hers, a solid line of heat and heavy muscle pressing her down into the mattress. Bloom twists and writhes, makes her body into one long arch, desperate in her search for friction. When that doesn’t work, she whines, a high-pitched sound she wouldn’t even believe came out of her own throat if she couldn’t feel it._

_“Shhh, sweetheart, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” There’s such authority in his voice that she desperately wants to believe him, but she’s burning up inside and he seems content to just lay there and watch her. Except, oh wait, now he’s pinning her arms above her head with one hand as the other one roams over her body, his touch a barely-there tease and so far from what she needs._

_“Please!”_

_Her partner chuckles, and she kind of wants to knee him in the balls, but then he bends to suck a bruise into the curve of her neck and just that little bit of contact makes a world of difference to the suffocating warmth in her chest. It only gets better, as he begins to kiss his way down the length of her body. Now the heat that’s licking up her spine is a pleasant one, each kiss stoking the flames as he gets closer and closer to the source of her aching need._

_Bloom resettles herself on the bed with a sinuous roll of her hips—but keeps her hands above her head, knowing better than to test his patience like that—leaving the perfect amount of space for him to settle between her thighs. She’s helplessly exposed like this, fully bare before him, and yet she’s breathless with anticipation, because she’s finally going to get what she wants, what she’s been burning for this whole time…_

_“That’s a good girl, spread yourself for me,” he says approvingly, and there’s something in his voice that makes her pause. All this time she’s assumed Sky was the one on top of her, driving her half out of her mind, but that didn’t sound quite right._

_She gasps as she looks down into a pair of sharp, discerning eyes that are entirely the wrong shade of blue._

_“Is something wrong, darling?” Baltor drawls, looking like the cat who got the cream._

Bloom jerks awake in a cold sweat—alone in her bed, but with the memory of finding her mortal enemy between her legs still burned into her brain, chasing away any hope of going back to sleep tonight.

Her throat hurts, dry and scratchy like she’s inhaled smoke, so she gets out of bed and makes a beeline for the bathroom. No matter how much water she gulps down, though, it doesn’t seem to do a thing to soothe the ache, and finally she gives up, leans into the sink and stares at herself in the mirror, wide-eyed and panting.

Nothing about that whole dream had felt right, even before the twist at the end that thankfully sent her hurtling back to consciousness. Though she’s been with Sky for going on three years now, the physical aspect of their relationship has never progressed beyond some intense make-out sessions and a little bit of over-the-clothes groping that one time over the summer they both got tipsy at a royal ball.

Bloom knows her friends are doing more with their boyfriends—she’s listened to Stella wax poetic about the wonderful things Brandon can do with his tongue, while Musa wears her bruises and bite marks with pride whenever she and Riven aren’t fighting for more than a few days. But with the intense lives they live, careening from one fight to the next and attempting to get their degrees in the little stretches of downtime, whenever they do get a moment of peace and quiet, sex always seems like the last thing on her mind.

Only now does she wonder if there’s something more to it. If she concentrates hard enough, she can still feel an echo of that terrible, burning desire from her dream, the tingling feeling of _dirtybadwrong_ when she realized it was Baltor driving her out of her mind. Maybe the reason she’s never pushed Sky for more is that she knows he would treat her like fine china, and that’s not what she wants from a lover…

Bloom curls her hands around the edge of the counter and presses down until it hurts, hoping the pain will bring her back to her right mind. It doesn’t work. The itchy sensation seems to have spread from her throat down through her entire body, like ants crawling underneath her skin, leaving her restless and more than a little bit confused.

Fresh air sounds like a good idea, she thinks, and without considering all the possible repercussions, she casts a few cloaking spells and jumps out the window, enjoying the freefall for a few seconds before she calls on her Enchantix and lets her new wings carry her upward.

Unlike anywhere else she’s lived before, Magix never really seems to change with the seasons, but the wind is crisp and cold, chasing away a little of the fog that’s settled over her brain since waking up from that terrible dream. A quickly mumbled spell for night vision and she almost begins to enjoy herself as she zips through the skies, starting to forget why she had to resort to such drastic measures in the first place.

That is, until she realizes her flight path might not have been so aimless after all. Only years of practice keeps her from falling out of the sky in shock when she catches sight of the familiar dark spires of Cloud Tower, even more imposing than usual shrouded in dark storm clouds and the illuminated mark in the sky asserting the castle’s new owners.

Rationally, Bloom knows she should turn around, fly back to Alfea like a good girl, but instead she keeps drawing closer almost as though she’s caught in orbit, helpless to escape the course she’s on. That itchy-hot, restless feeling is back, rippling underneath her skin in waves, and as paradoxical as it seems, something tells her she’ll find the relief she’s seeking inside the castle.

Everyone knows that the highest tower in the castle houses the headmistress’s office. Most people, however, don’t know about the little apartment that sits on top of it, nearly invisible from the outside unless you know just where to look for the room’s only window. Bloom isn’t quite sure how she knew that, honestly, but the tug in the pit of her stomach seems to be pulling her that way.

She struggles for a moment to gain footing on the ledge in her barely-there sandals. When she presses her fingers lightly against the glass, it nudges inward, unlocked. That alone should set off warning bells inside her head, but instead there’s only blissful silence as she slips inside.

He doesn’t notice her at first, which is good, because as soon as Bloom closes the window, it feels like waking up from her dream all over again—an intense wave of _what the hell just happened?_ like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over her head. For a second, she considers jumping back out the window, now that her head is clear enough to imagine doing so, but then Baltor looks up from his book.

“Well, now, this is certainly not how I imagined my night going.” He shuts the book and sets it aside, getting to his feet ever so slowly. His signature burgundy jacket is tossed casually over the back of another chair, and without it he looks almost younger, less threatening. Until she sees that familiar gleam in his eyes that makes it impossible to forget exactly who she’s dealing with.

“Not that I’m complaining, of course,” he finishes, cocking his head to the side as his eyes sweep over her body from head to toe. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Bloom?”

“I…I…” Her brain races a million miles a minute, grasping for some kind of story in order to hide the truth—that she really has no explanation for why she’s here, besides that insidious dream she no longer thinks was just some harmless figment of her imagination.

But when she tries to imagine accusing Baltor of tampering with her dreams… Even the thought is absurd. What could he possibly stand to gain? It doesn’t make a lick of sense.

He clucks his tongue. “Get away from that window, you’ll catch a chill.” His tone is almost bored, nothing at all like the way she’s seen him command the Trix or his brainless armies, but she still finds herself obeying. She does, however, send a small burst of magic into each of her palms until they’re glowing with fireballs.

“Did you come here to fight me?” he drawls, his hand lighting up with pulsing blue fire in response. “In the middle of the night, all alone, to the school full of witches that I now control? No, I don’t think so. You’re not nearly that foolish.

“So, what’s the matter, darling?” His voice is deceptively smooth, and for a moment, it sounds as though he actually cares. “Having trouble sleeping?”

Bloom jolts. _He couldn’t possibly know. Could he?_

She douses her flames and rubs absently at the side of her neck, which itches and burns like a fresh bug bite. Her whole body feels a bit like that, in fact—a raw, exposed nerve, just waiting for someone to apply the right kind of pressure—and her head’s starting to pound. Is there something in the air at Cloud Tower, some kind of spell that’s throwing her so off-balance?

“You don’t know anything about me,” she shoots back finally. It sounds pathetic even to her own ears.

Baltor chuckles. “You shouldn't lie to me. Not when the truth is written so clearly across your face.”

Then, before she knows what’s happening, he’s close enough to touch. For some reason she can’t make herself move, rooted in place like she stepped in wet cement.

Bloom feels like prey, and what’s worse, she’s not entirely sure she dislikes it.

“Do you need something, perhaps? But what could the heiress of Sparx and future queen of Eraklyon possibly want from _me_?” That’s definitely amusement in his voice, and her stomach churns with resentment at not being let in on the joke.

Nothing about tonight is making any sense. She’d always believed any interaction with Baltor would default to screaming and spells hurled back and forth, but instead he’s…toying with her?

“Still, I don’t think you would’ve come all this way if you didn’t want something.” He reaches out to trail fingers along the curve of her shoulder, and Bloom sucks in a breath through her teeth, her spine stiffening as though it has a metal rod attached. His touch is surprisingly gentle, though, not at all what she expected. “Something you can’t get anywhere else..”

Why is he touching her like this? Better yet, why is she letting him touch her?

Her nose is filled with the scent of him—leather and spices mixed with the burnt-sugar tang of dark magic. It’s not unpleasant, not really, and she fights to remember what she was trying to do.

Then his breath ghosts over the back of her neck, and she shudders.

He huffs a laugh. “You’re positively shaking with how much you need it. Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind refuses to acknowledge it."

Right now, Bloom would have a hard time telling up from down. She’s dizzy and hot, her skin feels too tight—it’s almost like she’s drunk, a state of being she’s only loosely acquainted with. Her head throbs.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

“Just give in, princess. You’ve come this far already, and I’m feeling remarkably generous tonight. All you have to do is ask.” Baltor’s voice is always silky and suggestive, but right now he sounds positively indecent. And she still has no idea what he wants from her.

He finally stops circling her for a moment, and she looks up at that face that’s all sharp lines and hard angles, into those piercing blue-gray eyes that are usually filled with spite and malice whenever they’re looking at her—except this time, they’re not. In fact, if she didn’t know better, she would almost call that…

_Desire._

It’s like she’s back in that infernal dream, burning up from the inside out with no relief in sight. “What…what are you doing to me?” she gasps.

Baltor gives an inscrutable smile, his eyes flashing with secret mirth. “I haven’t done anything.”

He takes a single step back and Bloom thinks that this is it, she’s either going to throw a fireball in his face or fly out the window and back to Alfea. Until she hears him say in a low voice, “Yet.”

If pressed, Bloom will say she doesn’t know which one of them moved first. That’s slightly easier to live with than the truth.

The truth, that she kisses the man who helped destroy her planet and the world doesn’t tilt off its axis, the cosmos doesn’t explode. Instead, a wave of soothing cool washes over her when their lips meet, beating back the flames until she can almost think again, and there isn’t much she wouldn’t do to keep feeling like this.

Baltor is by no means passive, hauling her close until they’re flush from shoulder to thigh. She clutches at the fabric of his shirt to keep her balance, legs quaking under the sheer enthusiasm of the kiss. Her throat vibrates with a mewl, and he presses the advantage until he’s licking into her open mouth, thoroughly devouring her.

Before she knows what’s happening, they’re back up against the window and he’s urging her to sit on the ledge. Large hands slide down her body and pull her legs apart so he can step into the space between them.

 _What the fuck am I doing?_ Bloom thinks in a fleeting moment of clarity, as he ducks his head to suck a bruise into the base of her neck. It’s gone almost as soon as it appears, and she twists her fingers in his hair to pull him back to her mouth, which he takes with an intensity that sears her down to the bone.

Somewhere along the way she loses her Enchantix, only realizing it when his hands slip underneath the thin fabric of her pajama shirt, stroking over the skin of her waist in a way that makes her shiver. Part of her thinks she should be embarrassed by the childish outfit, but there’s very little room for shame when the heat that’s been running through her body all night suddenly seems to concentrate at that spot between her thighs.

“Baltor, please,” she hears herself whine, doesn’t even really know what she’s begging for. He seems to know, though, because then she’s being hoisted into surprisingly strong arms and carried over to the bed in the corner, which is much larger than the one she left behind in Alfea.

She lands on the mattress with a soft thud, the sheets soft against her suddenly naked skin— _why waste time taking off clothes when you can just use magic instead?_ she thinks with a giggle—but Baltor doesn’t climb on top of her like she’d assumed he would. Instead, he kneels at the foot of the bed, a positively devilish look in his eyes. His hands slowly slide up her thighs, and she squirms as his mouth gets closer and closer to where she wants it, because this is the infernal dream all over again, except this time she’s not going to be rudely awakened before the good part.

At the first touch of a silky wet mouth to silky wet flesh, Bloom lets out a shocked gasp, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation. If she had known it could feel like _this_ —gods, if she had known, she would have dragged Sky into bed ages ago.

But it feels wrong to think about her boyfriend while she’s in bed with her mortal enemy, taking pleasure from each masterful stroke of his tongue. She wants to bury her hands in his hair, direct him to all the spots that ache, but part of her just knows that’s unlikely to end well. Instead she fists her hands in the sheets, tries not to squeak when she feels the gentle nip of teeth against her clit.

She’s pretty sure she wasn’t meant to like that as much as she does.

He licks and sucks and generally does his level best to drive her out of her mind, but just when the pleasure building inside her seems like it might reach some kind of peak, he takes his mouth away. Bloom flops back onto the bed and lets out a long, disgusted sigh.

“I hate you,” she groans, but she doesn’t even mean it the way she would have a week ago. Now she’s wondering if they can ever go back to their former adversarial relationship after this. _Something to worry about later,_ she decides.

“No, you don’t.” Baltor chuckles, sounding almost fond as he nuzzles against her neck. At some point he must have used the same spell to vanish his own clothes, because that’s a lot of toned muscles and warm skin now braced on top of her. As well as something else that’s hot and hard, pushing rather insistently against her hip.

Her breath catches in her throat, nerves fluttering like butterflies in her stomach because she might not have the biggest sample size to compare against but that feels really big and _it’s going to hurt, there’s no way it’s not going to hurt…_

“Breathe, darling,” he whispers, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that feels far too gentle for what they’re doing. At the same time, she can feel the head nudge against her entrance, and struggles to follow his command.

If she were doing this with Sky, Bloom thinks there would be lots of checking in to make sure she was okay, maybe even too much caution on his part. He’d go ever so slow, an inch at a time maybe, until he was absolutely certain he wasn’t going to hurt her.

Baltor doesn’t have that kind of patience. In one dizzying second, he’s buried inside her, fast and rough, shoving the breath from her lungs in a stifled groan.

It still hurts a little, the utterly foreign feeling of having something thick and hard between her thighs, but she also has the sense it could have been worse if he hadn’t taken the time to work her over with his mouth beforehand. It’s strange to imagine being grateful to Baltor for something, but then again, nothing about this night makes any sense at all.

The first several thrusts are slow and steady, but unrelenting as well—like he’s carving open a space inside her body that belongs just to him, and she knows she’s going to feel this for days afterward. All she can do is breathe deep and let it happen, and soon enough the pain turns into something else, an ache so sharp and sweet, unlike anything she’s ever felt before.

She wonders what type of picture she makes right now, sweaty and debauched in her enemy’s bed, body curving up to meet him each time his hips snap forward like this isn’t the most insane thing she could possibly be doing. His fingers dig into her hips, ten little points of sensation that keep her anchored when otherwise she thinks she might fly off into her own head. That’s what sex is, apparently—too many thoughts, too much sensation overloading her body, her brain skipping from pleasure to pain to _don’t stop, right there._

“Look at me,” he all but growls.

Bloom’s eyes fly open—she doesn’t even remember closing them.

“You’ll never forget this, will you?” he says in her ear, laying his whole body on top of her as he grinds in and out of her with short, rolling thrusts that feel even better than the longer ones. “That I was the first man to have you spread out and panting underneath me. I bet you won’t even be able to kiss your prince without remembering how I made you scream for me.”

His words make her hot all over. They’re possessive and dark and rude and demeaning and _she doesn’t care._

“Is that…” She steals a quick gulp of air as he picks up the pace again. “That a promise?”

 _This is what madness feels like,_ Bloom thinks. This is what it feels like to completely give herself over to the insanity of the situation, to the fact that she’s in Baltor’s bed and enjoying it.

Despite expecting some form of retaliation for taunting the dark wizard pounding her into the mattress, she’s completely unprepared when a hand slides up her chest to wrap around her throat.

Her heartbeat takes off with a start, in surprise and instinctive fear, but in excitement and _fuckyesplease_ too. She’s suddenly aware of her whole body in a way she didn’t know was possible—the deliberate pressure at her throat, the rush of her heart pounding in her ears, blood racing through her veins. The rhythm of Baltor’s hips and the push-drag of his length inside her. The tingles dancing across her skin in waves, the way every muscle strains toward the apex of her pleasure the same way her lungs are struggling for air.

She feels like she’s being held up by a single thread, and when he finally eases up on her throat, the world swings around her, dizzy and hot and demanding.

“Is that what you wanted, darling?” His voice drips something like contempt, but she can see that he’s not as unaffected as he’d have her believe—the tendons straining in his neck, jaw clenched and hips stuttering unevenly like he’s close to the edge.

She’s felt so out of control this whole night, but now he’s the one unraveling above her, because of her, because of what she’s doing him. That’s almost satisfaction enough.

Then he does something to the angle, and _oh_ , that’s better than good, fantastic maybe, each thrust now brushing against some secret spot that feels like a jolt of lightning. All at once, she’s hovering right on the edge, gasping and panting, just waiting for the last piece of necessary stimulation to find release.

The urge to arch up and chase his mouth is almost overwhelming, like Baltor’s a drug she needs more of, needs another fix. As though he can read her mind, he tilts his mouth down and slots their lips together.

It’s a bruising, possessive kiss that ends with him biting her bottom lip hard enough she thinks it’ll swell, another mark for her to take back with her to remember this night. Not that she’s likely to forget it—she hates that he’s right about that.

She can feel herself start to fracture, her body wound so tight it can’t help but break apart, brilliance exploding through every fiber of her being. Despite her best attempts to avoid giving him the satisfaction of hearing it, she does scream as he tips her into infinity, her vision going hazy before it dissolves entirely into black.

* * *

In the darkness of the headmistress’s bedroom, Baltor blinks slowly, mindful of the lithe, warm body curled against him as his eyes adjust to the lack of light.

It’s been a long time since he last took a woman to bed; the pleasures of the flesh aren’t something he often concerns himself with, preferring to satiate his more primal instincts with blood and violence. But the late-night tryst with the fairy of the Dragon’s Flame was a more than pleasant diversion. Even now, his body still thrums with aftershocks of the pleasure they’d shared.

Satisfied that Bloom won’t be regaining consciousness any time soon, he lets himself dip into the demonic part of his powers for a moment. His eyes feel a slight, hot pressure, and he knows if he were to look in a mirror, he’d see them glowing a deep red.

On the side of Bloom’s neck, his mark illuminates in the same color, the lines of it stark against her porcelain skin.

He’d always known it would look good on her.

This new variant of his signature spell will likely only work on someone who wields the Dragon Fire, with how heavily it relies on the connection of their shared power source to stay hidden, only activating when he desires it. It wasn’t easy to create, but he’s always had a certain knack for spellcraft, and oh, how it works better than he’d ever imagined.

After all these years, he’s finally found a way to bring the Sparx royal line to heel.

Of course, he could have done it the usual way, overtaking her mind to force her into his bed, but this is so much more satisfying. Now he gets to watch her spirit slowly break apart as she realizes the touch she craves belongs to her onetime mortal enemy.

After blinking away the bloodred gaze, Baltor takes a moment to admire the view—the delicate curve of her collarbone, the freckles that litter her shoulders like a dusting of gold. The shape of her mouth, lips slightly parted as she breathes slowly and deeply. Her coppery lashes flutter, but she doesn’t stir.

His chest warms with pride. By all rights, _he’s won_. He has Oritel and Miriam’s daughter in his bed, well on her way to being hopelessly addicted to his touch. With the piece of his magic living under her skin, he has the means to turn her into a mindless, half-feral thing who craves him like air at any moment he likes.

Originally, he meant to use it to burn through her, body and soul, until she breaks, but now he’s reconsidering that plan. An awful lot of time and energy went into crafting that spell, after all. It would be a shame to inevitably destroy the only person he could ever use it on.

Perhaps, once he conquers the magical dimension, he’ll make Sparx into his home base.

It’ll be like coming home for both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know *nicely* if there's anything you think I should tag for that was left out (I'm still a little new to the archive's tagging system), but I'm just going to say right now: I will not add the major tag for Rape/Non-consent. There are definitely consent issues in this (hence the tag), but I don't believe it's that kind of fic.
> 
> Title comes from "Shameless" by Camila Cabello. And really, if that line doesn't scream Sparxshipping, I don't know what does. (If you haven't heard the rest of her new album, I'm low-key ordering you to go do so. It's fantastic.)


End file.
